Borders
by Velexi
Summary: War is raging between Kanto and Johto. When an old friend invites Red to join a resistance group, he suddenly finds himself thrown into the struggles of loving someone he shouldn't and the truth of who he really is. – SoulfulHeartShipping (Red & Lyra)
1. He Accepts

Title: Borders

Pairing: Red & Lyra/Kotone (SoulfulHeartShipping… eventually)

Rating: T for some blood/violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

* * *

_**Chapter One: He Accepts**_

There was someone following him. He was sure of it.

His crimson eyes scanned the vehicles to his left. Then to his right. He breathed in.

There were two of them. And they were hot on his trail.

He exhaled, his warm breath sticking to the visor of his helmet. His foot impatiently tapped the brake as he waited for the signal to turn green. The sun was setting and traffic was deep into rush hour. His ruby gaze outlined the area; the crowded bustling streets and the exhausted parents on their way home.

It wasn't until he noticed a third one that he revved the engine of his bike, listened to its mighty roar, and ran a red light.

He was determined to escape them.

He dodged a rusty truck, a minivan, and a cab in the hopes that it would give him the edge against his stalkers. He glanced back to see if the chase was off. They were out of sight, but he didn't count it as a victory just yet. As an extra precaution, he turned a couple of corners and roamed a few dark alleys he was all too familiar with.

—

_No Pokémon allowed._

Red clenched his teeth. The mere sight of the ungraceful wooden billboard made him sick. Plastered to the side of the entrance for all to see and obey. He resisted the urge to tear it down. His eyes trailed up to the glaring neon sign, alternating between orange and blue.

_The Dragon's Lair_

Saffron City's most popular basement bar; Green Oak's home away from home.

Red groaned. This wasn't his kind of place. This was a place for social busy bees—and the occasional weirdos—who needed a spot to loosen up after a hard day of work—or partying. Not for an anti-social, mountain-dwelling ex-champ.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice though. He pushed away his anxiety as he marched down the steep flight of steps.

Once inside, he blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There were some dim lava lamps scattered around the wooden tables—possibly the only source of light. The smell of liquor lingered accompanied by some classic rock coming from a colorful, glossy jukebox. The long ebony bar was packed with patrons, all of whom were probably regulars. Their jaded expressions proved they'd been there for a bit too long.

Red slid onto an empty bar stool beside a couple of older men. The bartender, a young woman with tousled blond hair, caught sight of him and hurried over.

She gave him a wink. "Can I get you something?"

He glared at her—unintentionally—before clearing his throat to speak. "No. I'm waiting for someone."

"I—I see." She seemed offended but quickly returned to her routine, serving a customer on the other side of the bar.

Red rested his arm on the counter, drumming his fingers in annoyance. The man beside him, who was visibly drunk, slammed his beer mug against the table.

"Those damned Johto-folks!" he hollered. "If they would just surrender, I'd still have a job!"

Another man, who also appeared to be drunk, albeit less than the previous, slammed his mug against the table—only harder. "Relax. They've got nothing on us," he said after taking a chug of his drink. "Kanto's got Lt. Surge. He's going to make sure we crush them."

Red pulled the brim of his cap over his eyes. This was by far the last thing he wanted to hear. It seemed as though wherever he went, someone was badmouthing Johto or discussing the ins and outs of the war.

A war that seemed so pointless yet so inevitable.

He felt a pat on his back followed by a chuckle he'd heard far too many times. "Look who we have here."

He turned to see Green making himself comfortable on the bar stool next to his. His auburn hair messier than usual, his jacket completely unzipped, and his eyes gleaming with smug confidence.

"Oak."

"Red." He nodded at him. "I see you got my message."

Red grumbled as the drunk man to his right began singing along to the jukebox music. "Couldn't you have picked a better spot for us to meet up at?"

"Nope." Green ran a hand through his hair, clearly amused by the drunk's antics. "Honestly, I'm surprised you showed up at all." His green eyes observed Red's blank expression. "Did Mt. Silver get too boring for you?"

"Not really," he answered. "I actually plan on going back soon."

Green smirked. "It's been over a year since we've last talked and you're already in a hurry to go back? You haven't changed one bit."

"I'm sick of hearing about this war."

"That makes two of us." Green rested his chin on his fist. "The ban on Pokémon battling leaves every gym leader out of a job. It's ridiculous. Both regions are breaking into factions, each having different ways to go about this insanity. Since battling is against the law, people are resorting to gun violence."

Red shook his head. "It's pointless. All of this."

"No kidding. I bet the new Team Rocket is somehow involved. They've got both Kanto and Johto wrapped around their little finger."

Red was tempted to ask more but noticed the bartender staring at them, no doubt eavesdropping for some juicy conspiracy gossip. Instead, he decided to drop the topic. "So why did you call me down here?"

"Ah, right…" Green snapped his fingers and reached deep into his pockets. Red watched him pull out a pack of cigarettes from one and a lighter from another.

"Green…"

Green placed one of the cigarettes to his lips and lit it in a flash. He took a draw and released a gust of smoke from his mouth. "Hm?"

With a quick wave of his gloved hand, Red dispelled the puff of secondhand smoke.

"You _smoke_?"

"Heh, yeah. Bad habit I picked up recently." He grinned as he slipped the lighter back into his pocket. "Anyway, there's something important I wanted to talk to you about."

Red remembered the car chase from earlier and figured it'd be best to confide in someone. "Yeah, me too."

"Oh, really? Do tell," he said, feigning excitement. "Mine can wait."

Red shifted in his seat. He pondered it for a moment. How could he word it without sounding completely insane? "Lately… I feel like there've been people following me… everywhere I go."

"Oh?" Green stifled a laugh.

He narrowed his red eyes. "I'm serious. It just happened today—on my way here. There were a few people following me in their cars."

Green touched his chin as if he were thinking it through. "Maybe it's Team Rocket out for revenge."

"You really think so?"

"Or your lack of human interaction has caused you to start hallucinating."

"Shut up."

Green let out a dry chuckle. "Giovanni is dead, you know." His expression changed from playful to serious in a mere nanosecond. "Maybe they think you killed him."

Red blinked. "What? He's _dead?_"

He nodded. "I don't know all the details. That was simply what I heard when I took up the post at Viridian Gym."

He dug around in his pocket once more, pulling out a shiny, metallic card. He held it up in front of Red's face. "Listen, I want you to have this."

Red watched him place it on the counter. "A pass?"

"It's a Magnet Train pass, yes." Green took another drag of his cigarette as his jade eyes darted between Red and the pass. "Come to Johto, Red. I've started a resistance group there. I could really use someone like you."

He stared at him wide-eyed. Why would he become a part of something like that? He had no interest—no desire. All he wanted to do was return to Mt. Silver and wait safely until it was all over.

Red shook his head. "No way."

Green, who realized convincing him was not going to be easy, straightened himself upright. "Oh, c'mon. I know you're dying to battle again. My group is working _against_ the law. We're standing up to this war. You and I have the same views on this matter and I want you to join. You _are _the champion after all."

"No, I'm not the champion. I resigned. I want nothing to do with the war, so forget it."

"You can't just quit being champion, Red. That's not how it works."

"_I'm not joining, Green._"

He acknowledged Red's stubbornness and pointed to the pass. "The Magnet Train runs from Saffron City to Goldenrod City. If you change your mind, meet me there. Traveling between Kanto and Johto isn't exactly safe these days, so be careful." Green tossed his half-finished cigarette onto the floor and stamped on it. "I know you're as eager as I am to see an end to all of this nonsense—" He was cut off by a vibration in his jacket's front pocket.

To Red's relief, Green pulled out a cell phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he answered. He paused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. He glanced at Red. "Yeah, okay," he told the person on the other line, followed by "All right, I'll be there soon."

He grunted, quickly stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "Look, I have to go." Green stood up. "At least think about it. I'll be waiting." He headed for the front door, before halting in his steps to leave a few final words. "You're not a coward. Stop acting like one."

And with that, he was gone.

Red looked at the pass. He sighed.

—

Empty.

The train was _almost_ empty. Not counting himself, there were two other passengers on board. It was only natural that people would avoid traveling with the dangers looming in the area, but Red found himself wondering if either one of them was a stalker of his. Even so, they looked normal enough, so he dismissed any unwarranted suspicion.

He took the seat closest to the door—he wanted to be the first to exit once they arrived. The eerie atmosphere was unsettling. It was practically screaming at him to get out as soon as possible. Making sure none of the passengers were watching him, he pulled off his backpack and unzipped it. Inside, six pokéballs were rolling about. His precious Pokémon.

Cautiously, Red snapped each pokéball onto his belt. If someone were to notice him gearing up for battle, he might find himself in some trouble. Of course, he had no intention of battling. Not _yet _anyway. It was for his own safety as he was uncertain of what Goldenrod City held in store for him. The law was against him. But rules were made to be broken, weren't they?

One of the passengers, a green-haired man, was stealing looks at him. Red's suspicion returned. He pretended not to notice the person and watched him from the corner of his eye. The man resumed his own activities, flipping through pages in a newspaper.

A bead of sweat rolled down Red's face. He started to question himself. What if he was just being paranoid? _No. _He couldn't doubt himself. He was sure that he had been followed for the past couple of weeks—ever since he had returned from Mt. Silver.

"_Attention passengers. We have arrived at Goldenrod City Station. Please watch your step when exiting. Have a nice day."_

Red stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and rushed to the exit. He got off at the empty train station and listened to the doors shut behind him. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the train dispatch.

His eyes flitted across the platform. There was no one in sight. He proceeded to take a step but immediately froze when he felt something cool and smooth touch the back of his neck.

A raspy voice echoed around him. "Stop right there."

Red's eyes widened. He slowly looked over his shoulder.

The green-haired man from the train was standing before him equipped with a handgun aimed directly towards Red's chest.

_Damn it._

The man held the sleek gun firmly in his hand, ready to take action. He had the power of a god—he could take Red's life at any moment.

"Who are you?" Red questioned, his calm voice betraying his feelings of panic. He could hear his heart pulsing in his ears. The fear and confusion was overwhelming him. Green's words were pounding in his head. _Since battling is against the law, people are resorting to gun violence._

"That hardly matters at this point," he sneered, his lips forming into a spiteful smile.

Red scowled. There was nothing he could do—he was completely defenseless.

"Goodnight, Red."

He pulled the trigger.


	2. She Cries

_**Chapter Two: She Cries**_

"I don't think we can be together anymore."

The words hit suddenly—without warning.

Lyra nearly dropped her bag. "Wh—What?"

Her gaze fluttered up and down his face, examining his expression, his eyes, his lips—hoping for a sign that this was just a cruel joke—a mistake.

Ethan's eyes were full of guilt. He seemed almost… nervous. But beneath the self-doubt and remorse was something stronger. Was it determination? Or apathy? He reached out to pull her into an embrace, one that was far too shallow—far too _cold _to come from the heart. Carefully, he held her against his chest, as though she was made of glass—glass he would soon shatter into a million tiny pieces.

"My family's moving to Sinnoh."

It hurt. Was she supposed to cry? Scream? Beg him to stay? Lyra could feel herself begin to tremble into a jumble of emotions. She couldn't bear the thought of him leaving her side, but who was she to force him to remain in one place? His dream was to be a trainer, and he could never accomplish it here.

She drew away from his arms, clutching her bag to her torso. Without making eye contact, she forced a smile. "I understand."

The dusk air was soft and gloomy. The sky, tinted by vivid hues of pink and violet, betrayed all signs of the death and destruction that lingered about. Lyra felt a chill run down her spine as she looked over the horizon. The once beautiful city of Goldenrod was now in the midst of war. The streets were dirty and unkempt, the buildings abandoned, and the townspeople eager to escape. She could never blame anyone for wanting to leave.

Ethan noticed her eyeing the area. "You should get out of here too," he said. "It's not safe in Johto."

Lyra looked at him. "I can't leave my mother behind."

Truthfully, she didn't want to leave at all. She had lived in Johto her entire life. She wanted to see the war through. She wanted it to end. For everyone to return to their normal lives. She, too, wanted to be a trainer again—with no problems. Carefree.

"You're going back to New Bark Town today, aren't you?" He pulled off his cap and ruffled his hair.

"Yeah." Lyra bit her lip. "I was going to ask you to come along with me…"

"I'm sorry…" The guilt in his eyes deepened.

She smiled, it was far from a genuine smile—but it was the best she could do. "Hey, don't worry about it, okay? We all have to do what we gotta do." Lyra couldn't blame his family for wanting to get out of this war-zone. People were dying everyday. There was nothing wrong with fleeing from pain and suffering, right? At least this way, Ethan could be happy.

He stared at her. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"Of course!" She pulled up her sleeve and flexed her arm. "I'm stronger than I look!"

Ethan held back a laugh which turned into a hesitant smile. It warmed and crushed her heart at the same time. What if she never got to see him smile again? She didn't want this to be the end.

Lyra restlessly kicked a pebble near her foot. It tumbled down the gravel road, hitting another pebble, which then collided into another.

Her legs felt weak.

She glanced at Ethan who had already pulled his cap back on and was now adjusting his backpack's strap. He was preparing to leave.

"Ethan… when this war is over, maybe we can get back together?"

He froze.

He suddenly turned away from her, his head tilting up towards the sky. His fists were clenched, he was struggling. There was tension building between the two. Seconds passed. Then minutes. She waited, but he didn't answer. Why? Did he really want to end their relationship for good? Just as she parted her lips to ask, she was stopped.

"I don't know, Lyra."

"Huh?"

Ethan turned around to face her again. He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't feel the same way anymore."

She felt herself shatter.

"…What are you saying?"

Their eyes met and he lowered his head. Never had Lyra seen him so... detached. How could he dismiss her so easily? What was he feeling?

"Aren't we in love?" She needed him to answer her. She needed to know _why._

He looked away, his lips pressed together to form a thin line.

The way he was treating her, ignoring her, the indifference—it was all killing her. She'd never seen him act so coldly before. The pit of her stomach twisted in a knot every time he averted his gaze.

"Do you love me?" Her breath hitched, worrying that he may not answer at all.

His eyes found their way back to her. He inhaled and opened his mouth to begin speaking, but paused. Then started again. Only to pause again. Ethan held his head in his hands, his brows lowered in frustration.

"I _did _love you," he said, "but now…"

Her eyes stung. "...Ethan?"

He was cracking under the pressure. It was clear that it was just as hard for him as it was for her, regardless of his feelings. "I'm really sorry. I just don't know anymore…" he muttered.

Lyra watched him turn away. Her mouth was dry. She wasn't quite sure if her brain was functioning properly... The reality of what he'd just said hadn't sunk in yet.

"It's okay…"

No! It _wasn't _okay! But what else could she say? He was hurting and she couldn't bear to see him like that—she loved him and that wouldn't change, even if he hated her. There were so many questions she needed to ask him. She had no idea why his feelings for her faded, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. The pressure in her chest felt as though it would burst. The feeling was so new and strange to her, she was having trouble comprehending it.

"I should get going." Ethan took in the view of her, from head to toe, one last time. "Stay safe."

All Lyra could manage was a small wave. "You too."

He gave her a tiny smile before bolting in the opposite direction, away from Goldenrod City, away from Johto.

She watched him run and run until he disappeared into the twilight. And that was it.

Her cheeks felt oddly warm. She placed her hand on her face only to realize she'd been crying.

—

Apart from a few flickering street lamps, the city was dark.

Lyra had stuck around for too long. Danger was definitely lurking around every corner. There was no way she could head back to New Bark at this hour. She needed to find a place to stay for the night—and fast. From where she stood, smack in the middle of Goldenrod, she could see a small, run-down building emitting a flashing light—a clinic. Presumably for soldiers since it seemed to be open so late, but it was just what she needed. Shelter.

She gripped her puffy hat in order to keep it from blowing away in the breeze and headed towards the direction of the light. There was rubble scattered around which apparently attracted several wild Murkrow. She shivered when she noticed a few of them staring at her, their bodies shaded in darkness, their red eyes peering at her wickedly. It was as if they beckoned her to leave, run away.

Lyra kept her gaze fixated on the building ahead of her, ignoring the frightening Pokémon surrounding her. In her heart, she felt bad for them. Not only were innocent people getting caught up with the war, but so were innocent Pokémon. These Murkrow had more than likely lost their homes.

"I'm sorry!" she shouted out to them, apologizing on behalf of all humans. It was silly, but she felt it was necessary. She shut her eyes, unable to look at their hauntingly sorrowful stares any longer and hurried to the door of the clinic.

A small sign hung on the rusted entrance, the piece of paper worn and torn on the edges. _Army Only._

Lyra pressed her index fingers together. Would they even let her stay here? It didn't matter though, she had to try no matter what. Surely the Murkrow wouldn't allow her to sleep peacefully on the streets!

She held her fist up and carefully knocked on the door.

No answer.

There was a small window on the other side of the building which appeared to have a light on, indicating that someone _had_ to be inside.

Again, she knocked—harder this time.

"Hello?" she called out.

Before she could knock a third time, the door flung open and an old woman stepped out. She had her hair tied back in a bun, bags around her eyes, and a frown cemented on her face.

"Can I help you?" The woman—possibly a nurse—eyeballed Lyra suspiciously. Her voice was groggy so it was probable that Lyra had awoken her from slumber.

"Oh, um, sorry to disturb you. I was wondering if I could stay here tonight." Lyra gave her a large smile, hoping it'd be enough to convince the nurse that she was not a danger by any means. "It's really late and I'd be really happy if—"

"Does this look like a motel to you?" she snapped, cutting her off.

"Um… Well, no."

"That's right, this is a _clinic. _If you aren't injured, I can't allow you to stay here." The woman began to retreat inside, pulling the door back along with her.

"But ma'am, wait!" Lyra grabbed the door before it shut. "Please…"

"_No._ We're short on beds as it is." She glared at Lyra, causing her to back away.

The door slammed. Lyra was back to square one.

She felt hopeless. She was getting sleepy and she had absolutely no idea where to stay! Lost in a large, dirty city where one's life could be over without a moment's notice. Lyra glanced at the pokégear dangling from her bag. Perhaps she would call her mother? No, that would be useless. Her mother would go crazy knowing she'd been out so late in Goldenrod all by herself. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was to worry her mother. After all, Lyra was still okay. She just needed a safe, cozy bed to sleep in.

Lyra longed for the days where she could simply stay at a Pokémon Center—but now they were all shut down due to the ban against battling. She wished she could at least call out her Pokémon to aid her, but alas, the new law forced trainers to keep their Pokémon inside their pokéballs at all times. It was cruel and she hated it.

Another hour or so had passed, and still nothing. All the shops were closed, the city was silent.

Just when she was about to give up completely and find a corner to sleep in, Lyra stumbled upon a beautiful water fountain which refracted a streetlight's glow. The water swished and danced harmoniously, causing her to become entranced with it. She sat down on the ledge, resting her bag beside her feet and gazed at her reflection. Impulsively, she examined her tired face, her messy pigtails, and the smudge of dirt on her cheek.

Her heart ached. She missed Ethan. What was it about her that he disliked? The boy she'd always been with—the boy she'd hoped to one day spend the rest of her life with—was gone. He left her. For what reason? Was it really that easy to fall out of love with someone? Maybe she loved Ethan more than he loved her. Maybe there was more to "love" than she thought. Or maybe they weren't really in love to begin with.

It all hurt. Thousands of knives were thrusting into the center of her chest. Before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face again. Quickly, she wiped away each and every single one. She was so confused. How was she supposed to feel about this?

From a sideways glance, she noticed a familiar Clefairy logo on a huge building located directly in front of her. The Pokédoll logo. It was an old warehouse that apparently used to be a Pokédoll factory. Her face lit up. They used to make Lyra's favorite Pokédolls! She smiled faintly at her memories of being a normal trainer.

Without wasting another moment, she picked up her bag and sprinted to the warehouse. Maybe it would be safe enough to stay there until sunrise.

Upon nearing the front gate, Lyra noticed an odd worn-out rope leading into the doorway. Out of curiosity, she followed it inside. She tried to push the door open only to see that it was already ajar. She hesitated before taking a step inside.

It was dusty and dark. A sneeze crept up, but she pushed it back down. Her eyes trailed around, looking for the rope she had unknowingly lost track of. She caught sight of it peeking out behind a few boxes. Getting closer, she observed how it snaked deep into a corner where it was wrapped around a limp body lying on the floor.

Her heart stopped.

A person? In an old warehouse? Tied-up?

Terrified, she rushed to the stranger's side, who was seemingly unconscious—or worse—dead. To her surprise, it was a teenage boy, who was maybe two or three years older than herself. He wore a cap much like Ethan's, with the exception that it was facing forward. He appeared to be a trainer by his attire.

She was horrified. What was she supposed to do? Untie him? Leave him? What if he was truly _dead? _

"Hey! _Hey!_" she called to him as she knelt down.

"Please wake up!" she pleaded, her hands hovering above him, unsure as to whether or not she should touch him. His body stiffened and she heard him groan which assured her that he was indeed alive.

With a grunt, he opened his hazy eyes.

Those eyes... Lyra had never seen anything like them before. They were unbelievably red. Red as wine, red as fire, red as blood—the blood that was now pooling around his abdomen.


	3. He Bleeds

_**Chapter Three: He Bleeds**_

Dying had never been an option for Red. He had never even _considered_ it—until that very moment.

There was an excruciating pain surging through his left arm, breathing was beginning to feel impossible, and his heart was screaming against his chest. For the first time in his life, dying actually seemed _okay. _It couldn't be worse than this, he was certain. In fact, he could almost see death welcoming him, somehow convincing him that letting go was the best choice—the only choice. The whole time he was telling himself to hang on, but he didn't know what the hell was going on anymore. He couldn't move his arms or legs, and his mind was blank.

So he simply waited—waited to drift off into the nothingness, until silence was all that remained, until everything was black and empty, until there was no more pain.

But he heard a voice—a child-like voice, crying out to him, pulling him back.

"Please wake up!"

His head was spinning. Red knew his eyes were open, but he couldn't see anything. Everything was dark and blurry. When he squinted, he could just barely make out a face beneath a puffed-up white hat, staring down at him in horror.

"Oh my gosh! You're bleeding!" It was a female's voice.

"…What?" He looked down at himself. Sure enough, blood was oozing out from between the bounds of a thick rope fastened around his torso.

"Ugh, we've gotta get this stupid rope off of you!" The girl hooked her thin fingers into the knot, tugging and yanking with all her might.

Most of his body felt numb. He blinked several times, trying to shake the dizziness off, but it was far too stubborn. "How did I… end up here?"

Her amber eyes met his, her expression flooded with concern. He was trying to figure out who she was and why he was tied up—when it all hit him, smacking him right across the head.

The train.

The man.

The gun.

He was shot.

The girl ceased her rope-fumbling and let out a long, aggravated sigh. "It's no use… It's too tight for me to undo."

Red snarled. Who _was_ this person? Using all of his strength, he slid away from her, hauling his weight along. "Stay away from me," he gasped, his lungs aching.

"Huh?"

"I'm sick of you people following me around!" he shouted, which proved to be awfully tiring as he was already out of breath.

"What? I'm not the one who did this to you, I promise!" She rose to her knees, holding her hands up defensively.

Red narrowed his eyes. He got a better look at her and her childish features; a hat with a pink bow, pigtails... She was just a kid—one that couldn't possibly be the type to tie someone up and leave them for dead.

"Agh…" The throbbing in his arm worsened. His eyes traveled to his shoulder where he imagined the bullet was wedged in his flesh. He could feel himself losing hold of his consciousness.

"P—Please, hang in there!" The girl inched over to him.

Obnoxious laughter boomed from somewhere near, bouncing off the walls, approaching closer and closer. Footsteps could be heard, followed closely by a sharp, raspy voice.

"So you're still alive, huh?"

Red peered over the girl's shoulder.

It was _him_.

The green-haired man from the train station stood there, casually playing with a lock of his hair. He was dressed in black from head to toe, fitted with a matching hat. His mouth twisted into a crooked smile.

"You..." Red growled.

The girl turned around to look at the man, her jaw dropping at the sight of him. "Proton?!"

Red raised an eyebrow at her. "You know this guy?"

She nodded. "He's one of Team Rocket's executives."

"...Executive?"

Red tried sitting up on his knees to examine the man. She was right. He could see a red _R _emblem on Proton's chest. Not to mention his mannerisms were similar to those of the goons he'd faced so many years ago.

Proton snickered. "What a shame. I was hoping you'd be dead by now, Red." He took a few steps closer, away from the shadows. "My original plan was to kill you and then throw your body into the ocean... but falling back on plan B might be more fun." He turned his head a bit to the side as a conjoined smoke ball floated out from behind him. A Weezing.

"Why the hell are you doing this?" Red's vision was blurring, he couldn't keep focus.

"I'm just following orders." He grinned, moving his gaze to the Pokémon beside him. "Weezing, you ready?"

Orders? Whose orders? Wasn't Giovanni dead?

The girl spread her arms out in front of Red, shielding him. "Stop! Pokémon battling is against the law!"

Proton burst out laughing. "Shut up, kid. I don't care about the law. And who said I was going to battle? I'm going to _kill_."

Red struggled with the rope, trying to wriggle out of it, but the intense pain in his arm quickly reminded him to stop. His chest heaved with heavy panting. He looked at the female. She didn't seem to be working with Proton, so perhaps she'd give him a hand. "Hey, I need you to help me out," he breathed, motioning towards the girl. "On my belt, I've got some Pokémon. I'll take this guy down fast if you can let one out for me."

She bit her lip in worry, kneeling down beside him. "But... I don't think we should battle him... We'll get in trouble."

Red stared at her in disbelief. "Do you _really_ think I care about that right now? He's gonna kill us if we don't do something."

"Okay..." She looked down at the pokéballs attached to his belt.

The Weezing hovered toward them, its gases were beginning to cloud the area. "Death from poisonous gas is not pleasant, I assure you!" Proton called out from behind the fog.

The girl promptly grabbed the first pokéball and tossed it into the air. A small, golden rodent popped out, its cheeks sparking electricity. It squeaked, landing beside Red.

Red silently greeted Pikachu. It had been so long since he'd last battled, it was good to see his old friend again. "Pikachu... Thunderbolt!" The rush he got from that simple line alone made him forget the pain, if only for an instant.

The Pikachu nodded and exerted energy from its cheeks, which turned into an acute bolt of electricity. It hit Weezing directly, causing an explosion of dust and smoke. The entire building lit up for a mere moment. A few wooden boxes came crashing down in front of them, resulting in dust being blown their way.

Red's eyes trailed around the room, getting his first real look of the area. It seemed to be some sort of old factory. He couldn't see Proton or the Weezing anywhere. It didn't help that everything was blurry and dust was finding its way into his eyes.

The girl beside him coughed. "Proton... He disappeared!"

"Damn it... Typical Team Rocket, always running away..." Red grumbled. His eyes widened when he realized he was trembling. Although the pain was still there, his body was working hard to mask it.

"Are you okay?" He heard her ask.

Pikachu scurried over to him and licked his hand.

"Pikachu." Red tilted his head, gesturing it to help him with the bloodstained rope. Pikachu nibbled on it, wearing it thin enough to rip apart.

Red was able to slip out of it easily. "Thanks," he said to his Pokémon. "You need to get back inside the pokéball."

He rested his hand on the wound. The absolute worst mistake he could've made—it felt like his arm was on fire. The rope's pressure had kept too much blood from flowing out, but with it gone, nothing was stopping him from bleeding to death.

"You're losing a lot of blood, this isn't good!" The girl took off her bag and started digging around in it. She pulled out a peach colored handkerchief, which she then wrapped around his upper arm, binding the wound shut.

He was sweating, his breath ragged. Red was beginning to feel it was too late. His muscles slacked and he collapsed into her arms.

"H—Hey! Can you hear me?!" she cried, holding his face between the palms of her hands. "Just hang on! There's a clinic not too far from here! I can take you there!"

"Thanks..." he managed to mutter between breaths—before everything went black.

—

The pain was gone.

His eyes fluttered open. It took him a moment to adjust to the brightness. He was staring at a white ceiling surrounded by blue and gray tiled walls. The smell of disinfectants clogged his nose. Red realized he was lying on a bed. He tried to move his left arm only to notice it was nestled in a sling. Immediately, with his free hand, he pulled the sheets away from his waist, relieved to see that his Pokémon were still secured to his belt.

He shifted his head. A few feet away from him, an old woman was pulling a bottle out of a cabinet. She caught him staring and greeted him with a smile.

"Ah, you're awake."

"…Where am I?" His throat felt parched.

"This is one of Goldenrod City's finest infirmaries," she stated proudly, although it wasn't clear if she was exaggerating or not.

He pulled himself up, resting his back against the pillow. Red was surprised to see an IV bag hanging beside his bed. A thin tube extended from the pouch and ran directly into his right arm.

The woman, who appeared to be a nurse, walked up to his bedside. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Your injuries were pretty bad, but it's nothing that won't heal."

He looked at her, urging her to continue with the report.

"You suffered from severe blood loss. You're lucky that girl had the same blood type as you, otherwise you might've been in some trouble. Just take it easy for now and everything will be—"

"Wait a second." He glanced at the IV bag, remembering those pigtails and that puffy white hat. "That girl… gave me her blood?"

"Yes." The nurse seemed amused. "As soon as she found out you two shared a blood type, she _insisted _on donating for the transfusion."

He blinked and gazed at his arm. How could someone he'd just met be so willing to give up their blood? He'd be lying if he didn't admit he was shocked by her selflessness. Red couldn't see himself doing the same for a stranger. Nonetheless, it was strange to think that someone else's blood was flowing through his veins.

"Where is she now?" He returned his gaze to the nurse.

She opened her mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted.

"Right here!" A familiar voice piped in.

The pigtailed girl was standing in the doorway. She waved at Red with one of the biggest, sunniest smiles he'd ever seen in his life.

The nurse chuckled and stepped aside, allowing the girl to hurry over to him.

She wasn't wearing her hat which explained why she looked slightly different from what he remembered. Her chestnut hair was tossed around in loose twin tails, framing her tired and sleepy face. She looked young, but she couldn't have possibly been much younger than himself.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine..." he said. He noticed the bandage on her arm; the spot where her blood had been drawn. Not only had she given Red her blood—but she also brought him to a clinic all by herself? He felt indebted to her.

"Thank you." He looked at her amber eyes, hoping his expression seemed kind enough. It was difficult for him to show gratitude as he was used to having to fend for himself, but in this case he would definitely _try._

"Don't mention it, okay?" She grinned. "Your name's Red, isn't it?"

He tilted his head.

"I heard Proton call you that, so..." She twiddled her index fingers.

"Yeah, that's my name." Red was left wondering how Proton knew his name, but supposed it wasn't completely illogical, considering most of Team Rocket knew exactly who he was.

She stared at his crimson eyes, rather entranced. "How fitting..."

Red suddenly felt himself turn self-conscious, causing him to look in the other direction. "I get that a lot."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

He redirected his gaze. "What about you? What's your name?"

"I'm Lyra." She clasped her hands behind her back. "I know this will sound really crazy, but you wouldn't happen to be _Champion Red_ from Kanto, now would you?"

He almost said yes.

But he couldn't. What if he got thrown out of the clinic for being a Kanto native? He couldn't risk the chance. The truth would only cause problems. Besides, he considered himself retired anyway. There was no point in her knowing.

"No."

"Oh..." Lyra flushed with embarrassment. "I just thought since you had the same name..." She looked at her shoes. "And you seemed like a really good trainer."

Red shook his head firmly in an attempt to persuade her all the way.

He silently thanked Arceus that Green wasn't with him. Seeing as how much Green loved attention, there was no doubt he would've blown Red's cover.

_Green, damn it. _He had almost forgotten about him.

"Do you have a phone?" he asked Lyra, catching her off-guard.

She stretched both arms out and yawned. "Well, I have a pokégear."

He watched her, debating whether or not she'd slept at all. Judging by her face, he'd guess no. "Could you call someone for me?"

She bobbed her head to the side, her hair bouncing against her shoulders. "Sure! Who do you need me to ring up?"

"His name's Green." Red couldn't help but smirk. "And he's the one who got me into this mess."


End file.
